You would think that after being married for almost 11 years – YIKES! I would inherently know what to expect from hubby. You’d think I could no longer be surprised by any of his quirks, or his actions. You’d think that I could complete his sentences and just know what he’s going to want for dinner or how he’ll answer a question. BUT, if you really believe that, you haven’t been reading the blog for very long.

Because the only constant in my life, is change. When I’m POSITIVE hubby will only eat plain pizza, he orders sausage & peppers. When I’m certain beyond any reasonable doubt that his favorite beer is Heineken…. today it’s not, it’s Arrogant Bastard (yes – this is really a beer.. and very aptly named for my hubby – HA!). But tomorrow it could just as easily be DogFish Head… and next Tuesday it just may be some sort of Dead Guy Ale. You see, hubby likes to be difficult, annoying… ok, he likes to keep our marriage spicy and fresh and new – he does this by constantly changing his mind and by constantly making me second guess everything I think I know about him. Now, that’s love. I’m sure he’s doing this for my benefit – so I get to re-discover him each and every day. I get to fall in love with someone new all the time. UGH! Really, I just want to smack him upside the head and say… “you can’t be absurdly adamant about something one second and then pull a complete 180 in your opinion 2 days later!” And he would ever-so-lovingly reply “why not?”

And so here I sit… always wondering what new thing I will learn about hubby today. Maybe it truly is that men never grow up…. Because his behavior is not unlike that of my toddler. He’s easily distracted. He can immediately forget what he just told me. He’s difficult simply because he’s testing his limits. He’s engrossed in something so completely for 10 minutes and then he’s moved on to something totally different. I think I just discovered something. I live with TWO 2 year olds (although, only one can annoy me with his beer choices!)

Sometimes, I write these blog posts and I find myself way off on a tangent… but I guess that’s what happens when you’re in love and you simultaneously want to smack your spouse upside the head. You’re pulled in two opposing directions and reeling yourself back in when you’re ranting can be tough. Today’s post was supposed to be about t-shirts… and geez… look where I am. So, here’s my graceful transition to t-shirts….

It all has to do with that consistency thing again. There is generally one thing that’s IS consistent. Hubby has preferred clothes. So, while he may have a full closet and many drawers full of options, he wears like the same 5 things… over and over and over and over. He is imparting this lovely “style” to our son. Any time I send hubby upstairs to grab an outfit for mini-hubby, he comes down with one of the same 2 shirts. Every week, the same 2 shirts. His response “well he likes these shirts”. My response “YOU like these shirts… he’s 22 months old – he could sort of care less what shirt he has on…. unless you make an issue of it!”. I suppose if I wait long enough, like almost every other “consistent”, one day I’ll wake up and hubby will have decided on a brand new “every-day” shirt for our son. Or, one day I will wake up (this one is probably more likely) and our toddler, will indeed have his own opinion of shirts – and he will demand the same shirt every day. Will this be learned behavior directly from his Dada OR will this be normal toddler behavior that will now be exhibited by BOTH of my children??

I can only imagine a day where mini-hubby and Hubby are now teenagers and they are both eating the same thing for lunch every day, drinking the exact same beverages, giving the exact same reason that cannot (or will not) do laundry, wearing the same shirt every day (still)… until that one magical day. The day where they wake up and decide that the lunch-of-the-week has fallen out of favor only to be replaced with another “new” lunch that will get consumed for the next month straight. OR, at some point, will my toddler surpass my hubby and actually grow up into diversity? If there’s anyone taking pity on me from out there in the universe… the latter will be my future. Please, oh please, let this be my future!

Here my friends… is one of the 2 favorite shirts (and yes, my Super Men are mighty cute!)

In the almost 5 years I’ve been blogging there is one recurring topic that I can’t quite seem to stay away from. In case you’re a new reader I’ll share just a few posts with you (HERE, HERE , HERE & HERE)

Most people dislike 4 letter words but me, nope, I like a lot of 4 letter words. … words like Love, Food, Hugs & Beer (and probably too often, just about all of those 4 letter words that are incredibly inappropriate in mixed company – yep, I have a mouth like a sailor!). It’s generally the 6 letter words that I hate.. words like, crumbs, chores, toilet, but there is one word that can top them all….the ever-so-dreaded 7 letter word that I quite simply, just despise – LAUNDRY.

I hate every aspect of it.

I hate the piles of dirty laundry in the closet. The piles of dirty laundry in the bathroom. The piles of dirty laundry next to the bed.

I hate the sorting.

I hate the process of carrying 6 baskets of dirty laundry to the basement.

I hate remembering that I have clothes in the dryer before they become a crumbled mess.

I hate the absurd missing sock conundrum (which has apparently extended to actual toddler clothes – since I never seem to get out what I put in)

I hate the countless hours on any given weekend where laundry looms just underneath the surface and permeates just about anything we do.

I hate the weight of the laundry as it pushes down on my shoulders if I should opt to focus on any other activity (besides laundry) during a weekend.

I hate, Hate, HATE folding all the clean laundry.

And, I hate putting all the clean laundry away. (or leaving it to be put away on the bed only to find that hubby has moved piles of it to the dresser and will live like this for the next 2 weeks – but that’s an entirely different blog post)

But the one thing that I don’t HATE (or at least not in the way I hate everything noted above) is the need to flip inside out laundry to be right side out. I know this is the nemesis of Mom’s around the world. And I know that many a woman has instilled a laundry rule… that you get back laundry exactly-the-way you put your laundry into the basket (assuming it makes it into a basket). And, perhaps, when my toddler becomes a teen, I will be instituting this exact same rule (ok – it’s likely I probably will) BUT, for now.. this has never been a huge deal to me. If I take a moment to self-analyze I think it’s because I hate the laundry folding process so much already, that there’s virtually no way to make it worse for me. Inside out – Or right-side-out folding… they both pretty much suck! So, while I may grumble under my breath as I flip t-shirts to be right-side-out… I’m grumbling because I’m folding laundry… not because 50% of the load is inside out.

Which makes where I’m headed below highly humorous to me.

2 weeks ago hubby did a load of laundry. WHAT?? You may be saying…… So, I’ll say it again. Hubby did a load of laundry. Trust me when I tell you, I’m more surprised than you are. It probably only happened because he ran out of underwear. And, after an interesting recent conversation, about the under-wearing habits of most men… he was probably guilted into doing a load.

Anyhow… after he folded his basket of laundry he decides to take a dig at me.. or, perhaps from his point of view, he decides to “point something out to me”.

Hubby: “Hey hon, do you know that a ton of your shirts were inside out”

Me: “Uhhh… hmmmm..”

Hubby: “I just wanted to let you know….”

Me: “You did….. Huh?”

Hubby: “Yes. You know, it makes this task even worse when I have to right-side-out every t-shirt”

Me: “It does, does it?” trying to wrack my brain for the last time he did any laundry

Hubby: “Yes. Maybe you could take them off right-side-out before you put them into the basket?”

Me: wondering the last time he even put clothes ‘in the basket’ “You know, most of your t-shirts are usually inside out”

Hubby: “No they’re not”

Me: “Hon, I hate to break this to you but you’re mistaken… almost all of your shirts are inside out”

Hubby: “I’m positive that you’re wrong. I’ve always been good at taking them off right-side-out.. because my Mom had a rule growing up that if you didn’t she would fold them inside out”

Me: “ Really…. All your life you’ve been good at making sure they’re not inside out.”

Hubby: “Yep.”

And I just let this conversation die… in the midst of the inaccuracies in which it was becoming increasingly buried.

Last weekend things were “back to normal” and I did laundry.

As I folded the laundry, I counted the total # of hubby’s shirts…. There were 17 in total.

Hubby came inside from doing some yard work.

Me: “Hey babe… I would never normally do this but……”

Hubby: “Yeah?”

Me: “Remember last week when you so graciously pointed out that I didn’t right-side-out my t-shirts?”

Hubby: “Yes?”

Me: “Remember how you so matter-of-factly told me that you never put inside out t-shirts into the hamper?”

Hubby: “Yep!”

Me: “Well, I did laundry today”

Hubby “Ok….”

Me: “And again, I would never be pointing this out if you hadn’t opened the door to this conversation……”

Hubby: blank stare

Me: “Well, I counted your t-shirts… there were 17 of them.”

Hubby: “Ok”

Me: “Do you want to know how many were inside out?”

Hubby: “I’m not sure….. Do I?”

Me: “You do. It was TWELVE of them”

Hubby: silence………………………..

Me: “I just feel the need to remind you again….. I have done 16,928 loads of your laundry (give or take). And, I’ve never complained about having to right-side-out your shirts”

Hubby: more silence……………

Hubby: “ I’m sorry. I will try to be better”

Me: “I honestly don’t care…. But I’m sure your Mom would be very disappointed in you.”

Hubby: “Hmmmmmm”

And there you have it my dear readers……………….I will let you know how the next load of laundry goes!

I hate to admit this to you all but I watched an episode of Celebrity Wife Swap this week. Now, the mere use of the word “celebrity” is probably a stretch given who appears on that show. And, this probably helps solidify hubby’s position that reality tv is rotting my brain but.. either way, the damage is done. I watched it. I cannot undo it. I lost an hour of my life into a dark abyss of mind-numbing morons. And, I’m no better… and quite possibly more stupid for having done it. But oh well…..we all do things we regret!

Anyhow, this particular episode featured the Speidi couple. Spencer Pratt and Heidi what’s her name… from that show that whatchamacallit show, that many people watched but I have no interest or knowledge of (pretty sure it’s called The Hills). Needless to say, I’m unsure how these nobody’s could be known as “celebrities” because of this show. But, I suppose it if can happen to somebody named Snookie… this isn’t a far stretch.

What struck me as absurd, was this bozo Spencer’s inability to behave like an adult. Now, I’ve often referred to my own dear hubby as a child.. but this Spencer moron takes it to a whole new level. His equally vapid wife desperately wants to have children and I got the impression he wouldn’t give up his self-indulgent, extra hour of sleep to tend to his wife’s severed limb much less a crying infant. If I had ever married this kid (which I wouldn’t) I’d have to smother him during his blissful nap on the lounge chair.

So, it got me thinking about men taking that giant leap into adulthood. Some men go willingly and welcome adult responsibilities – they hum happy songs as they mow the lawn, they make their own “honey do” lists with household projects, they learn all the settings on both the dishwasher and clothes washer. Some men get dragged (or rather nudged) along, kicking and screaming the entire way as they are pushed out of Mommy’s house into their own place so she can finally have an empty nest.. but they return home every weekend with a bag of laundry, they open mom’s cupboards and fridge and pack to-go bags of food, and they even cling desperately to a life with no commitments. But, the vast majority of men, step into adulthood very slowly, by dipping one toe into the water with a solo trip to the grocery store… then, if all goes well, they may try to vacuum, perhaps an attempt at a pasta dinner, followed possibly by a made bed (WITH all the extra pillows!) and then maybe, just maybe – if they are feeling extra confident… a load of gentle cycle laundry (this one takes a lot of trust ladies!).

Before you know it… your husband has become an adult. Ok wait… I took it too far. Your husband is on his way to becoming an adult. We all know that this is a long term project!

So… here are just a few ways you know your husband is “growing up”

He not only takes a trip to the grocery store but he actually looks around the house and in the fridge to create a shopping list. Not long ago hubby wouldn’t have even considered bringing a list to the store but after 10 years of marital training he did just that this past week…. I’m such a proud wife!

He returns from his Saturday morning outdoor chores and stands in the house admiring his own lawn. While the lawn itself may not dictate when it needs to be mowed (even though a normal person might disagree)… hubby does , in fact, set aside an official “lawn mowing day” each week and he (generally) sticks to this schedule for the entire summer. A scheduled, recurring, chore is a BIG step towards adulthood!

He runs out of undies and decides to do a load of laundry (all on his own!). I’ll admit this one is still a work in progress… since only recently did I realize the underlying male struggle with understanding the need to wear clean undershorts each and every day. Hubby has, albeit on the rarest of occasions, popped in a load of laundry because he’s run out of something.

He, unprompted, puts sunscreen AND a sun hat on your baby/toddler. I know this goes against every fiber of his being to somehow be this domesticated.. but, he recognizes the importance and takes action to protect someone incredibly dear to him!

He actually hears the baby crying when it’s “HIS” night, without needing you to nudge him. This is likely never going to apply when it’s YOUR night (and he is obviously deaf).. but always remember this foray into adulthood comes in the form of baby steps……. And this is a BIG step – a BIG kid, taking care of a little kid!

He actually notices AND stops to pick up something dropped on your kitchen floor. Once your hubby is able to direct his Selective Vision towards things that actually need attention you’ll know he’s growing up!

I’m sure there are others and your list may indeed be longer than mine! Some of the indicators I mentioned above may not actually be perfected in our home. But as I mentioned before, it’s a long term project. It’s a marathon, not a sprint. And, it’s the path I have chosen… each day, my hubby grows up a teeny, tiny, bit. Someday, hopefully before my son starts catching up to him, he will firmly step into adulthood and then we can begin to hone some of the skills he’s acquired to start coaching our son –so his wife-to-be will not have nearly as much work as I did!!

There are a few life events that can very easily overwhelm you emotionally, in ways you’d never imagined.

If you think I’m about to talk about having babies or celebrating first steps….. you are WAY wrong. There are far more significant, emotional moments in every-day-life.

Take for instance, the first time after your blissful new marriage to the love of your life, that you stumble into the bathroom in the middle of the night only to plop your little tushy right down into a wet, open toilet. Yep, those are emotions that you never thought you could have…. Certainly not half asleep as you dry off your ass and consider (if only for a moment) about scooping up a cup of toilet water and throwing it on your adorable, slumbering, new hubby. But, you stop yourself realizing that if you did toss a cup of toilet water on him… it would be all over the bed where you are also sleeping and that your hubby likely has no concept of how to launder the sheets… Thus, you’d be doing nothing but compromising your own sleep environment and creating more laundry to do the next day.

Or, how about the moment when that very same toilet seat is down, but loose, and you go to sit only to realize you’re sitting with too much force (or you shouldn’t have eaten that extra bowl of ice cream last night) and you slide sideways across the toilet and you’re no longer properly aligned, but you’ve had a baby (and obviously not done enough kegels!), and you’ve held it as long as you possibly could but now you’re peeing sideways and there’s nothing you can do about it. Now you’re pissed, as you’re pissing and you’re probably wondering how a toilet seat (that never gets put down enough) could be that loose……

Or, maybe you’ve cleaned yourself up, inspected the screws and realized that although you almost fell into the bowl, all you need is a screw driver to tighten the seat and all will be ok with the world again. So you head downstairs to the place where you keep the screw drivers. Only to realize that the “screw driver spot” is missing said screw driver. Now, as you screw up your face and try to contain yourself, as you mutter bad words under your breath, you look around and wonder where on earth the screw drive might be. You think back to the last time you used it. You know you put it back. Then you remember the last time you nagged hubby into using it. You acknowledge, that he has an inability to ever put anything back…. It’s probably one of the biggest reasons he can never find anything. You feel those emotions start to bubble up…. You think about the last project he did. You think about how many times you had to ask him to do it. You think about your wet tushy in the middle of the night. The loose toilet seat. The missing screw driver. You’re overwhelmed with emotion. You fantasize about finding the screw driver and stabbing your hubby with it as you push his head into the toilet. (Oh wait… did I take that too far……………..)

You take a deep breath and remember that hubby last used the screw driver upstairs. You go upstairs and open the closet. You know the closet…. the one filled with clothes and suits and purses and hats… and oh yeah, a variety of lost tools. You find the screw driver. And, oh by the way… the drill, a hammer, a ball point pen and a level. You shake your head. You mumble more curse words. You look around and realize you’re by yourself mumbling out loud. You pick up the screw driver.. go to the bathroom… fix the toilet.

Then, you stand there for a moment. You wonder what to do next. Your emotional side says.. put the screw driver into the bed on hubby’s pillow. Your rational side says… put the screw driver back in the ‘screw driver spot’ downstairs. You’re frozen for a moment as your emotional inner self debates what to do next. Then, you realize you have the answer. You go back to the closet. Replace the screw driver. And then you go to the man cave… grab the tv remote, the game console controller and hubby’s favorite beer glass. As you make your way back upstairs you walk past his sunglasses in the kitchen.. and just for good measure you grab those too.

You head back upstairs, in the most determined, steadfast way you know how. You open the closet and you place each item neatly next to the hammer, screw driver and the drill. You smile. Applesaucy Hubby….. Apple….. Saucy.

(and if that last comment means nothing to you please read an incredibly funny blog post HERE by The Honest Toddler that will explain it to you!)

** Disclaimer – Some (or all) of this post may (or may not) be true in the THD household! **

Many years ago I posted about some of the unintended consequences of marriage. I wrote about all the unexpected responsibilities bestowed upon the wife as she (oftentimes) becomes the administrative assistant for hubby; his chef, his housekeeper, and his personal shopper. Getting married, from the male side, is a pretty dang good deal. Because even in marriages where life is “split” evenly, it seems the wife may somehow take on more of these particular tasks as she earns a whole new job description. It’s a slow process, like with most jobs… extra duties just creep up on you.

When you accept the ring after that romantic proposal, you read the posted job overview and negotiate your best deal with the hubby-to-be. Then as the years go by, and your world begins to demand more and more with less and less time, you take on a few more tasks. Then as other employees go on strike –or hubby forgets where the hamper is or burns his last grilled cheese….. you take on a few more tasks. Before you know it your responsibilities have doubled – you add kids, pets, after-school activities, a bigger house.. and you take on even more tasks. Then, years later, you wake up one morning and realize you’ve been getting the standard 2% cost of living increase via an extra back rub here and there, or maybe a sparkly piece of jewelry on occasion, and you begin to recognize that you are now doing the job of 3 people. You are putting in extra hours, doing things you never said you’d do like darning socks (do people do this anymore??) and sending Christmas cards to your hubby’s crazy Aunt Barbara – who you only met once at your wedding….. and, you stop. You step back. You wonder… how did I get here?

You think back…… “Hmmmm… I don’t remember the job description mentioning anything about buying new undies for hubby or making sure he changes them every day.” You sigh “ I don’t recall signing any agreements that said I would be the gift buyer for any and all holidays/birthdays/anniversaries of everyone we know.” But here you are. This is your *new* job. You celebrate the fact that you still have a job. Many other people you know have been downsized and are no longer “working”. You still love your job. You work hard and there are still quite a few perks. And then you realize, that while your job may have changed, you’re still your own boss (well – some days………… ) and the daily grind is still rewarding. And, ultimately, you still love what you do… even though you’re now the designated booger wiper, boo boo kisser, cleaning fairy, buyer of TP and finder of lost things – even though, these are all things that hubby can do for himself!! J (and just for the record these all apply LONG before you ever have any kids!!)

So, it’s probably no surprise when I use the above info as a “warning” for all new brides-to-be. This is just a glimpse into your future. You may not think so.. you may say… “nope, not me”. And, at the beginning, you may actually fight the good fight…. and, you may actually win on some occasions. Or, you may be one of the lucky few who marries an award winning grilled cheese maker. Or maybe you hit the jackpot and you have a man who just loves to do laundry (do these exist??). But I can assure you that there will be tasks that you take on without even realizing it. Because eventually, you will realize you need to pick your battles. And you will discover that the definition of marriage, is learning how long you’re willing to wait to have a heavy item removed from your kitchen or recognizing how many days can pass before you give up and move the empty soda can from the counter into the trash. Because remember, nobody ever looked at a married man who is dressed in wrinkled clothes, holey black jeans, white socks and a flannel shirt and said…. “Oh boy, he looks awful”. Instead they say….. “How could his wife let him out of the house like that??!!”… and *poof* you have instantly become his personal shopper and wardrobe consultant… just one more of your job duties!

We kicked off November with ear tube surgery for mini hubby. This was necessitated by about 14 million ear infections since we started day care (ok, maybe not 14 million – he was after all, only a year old. But, let’s just say one little munchkin shouldn’t have been on as many consecutive doses of antibiotics as our little guy was). About 2 weeks after surgery, mini hubby was toddling along, and as new walkers tend to do… he toppled right over……… fracturing his little mini wrist. Have you ever seen an x ray of a of a tiny little hand. It’s like a freaky, mysterious picture with tiny floating little bones…. It’s just NUTS!

None of this stopped him. He still laughed, and giggled and toddled around the house like he was a skilled tight rope walker (minus the tiny balancing line and plus a whole new dimension to balancing with his itty bitty little cast). Hubby could learn a lot from the little guy. He’s tough as nails and none of this phased him. No awfulizing. No grumbling. No complaining.

Then Thanksgiving week came and mini hubby brought home the plague from day care…. And, it wiped out the entire family. I think it was Rotavirus. And, if you’ve never experienced lovely ailment… I’ll say a little prayer that you never do. Hubby and I spent all night with dueling bathrooms as we raced past each other to vomit and twist ourselves into a pretzel as we agonized with the worst abdominal pain ever. A few days earlier, mini hubby had vomited a bit, cried a bit and then toddled around the house throwing blocks and racing cars. Man, he’s a trooper… and he recovered quite nicely as his dad and I prayed for death for a full 24 hours as we dealt with this doozy of an illness.

You may recall how hubby deals with sickness (if you forgot you can get a refresher HERE). For me, it was simply wonderful. There’s just nothing better than throwing up all night and then getting out of bed the next day to care for your toddler and your sick husband…. All the while, wondering how you could possibly vomit more when you haven’t eaten anything for hours upon hours. This lovely day ended with a trip to the ER to treat hubby for dehydration. Yes folks, it’s been a fun holiday season.

So we are definitely in need of some Christmas magic… BUT, we are getting there….. S L O W L Y……